Author's Note: This is the sequel to 'Book 14 – The Unpleasant Unknown' so make sure you read that one first. It was positively received which I'm proud of, but a lot of people seemed annoyed that I ended it on a cliffhanger and didn't immediately release a sequel. I'm making it clear that this sequel was always going to happen. It was just a matter of when I had the time to write it. I know a lot of you were angry that I left so many questions unanswered, but isn't that part of Lemony Snicket's style? We were left with a million questions at the end of Book 13. The aspect of my writing that everyone seems to like the most is my ability to imitate Snicket's style, so I don't regret leaving so many unanswered questions. Never fear though. They will be answered in this fic!
Disclaimer: Do I really have to come up with another thirteen ways of saying 'I am not Lemony Snicket and I do not own ASOUE or any of its characters'?
At some stage in their career, every writer has to go through a process known as writer's block. This means that they find it impossible to write for one reason or another, as if there's something psychological ordering them to stay away from their pen, typewriter or paintbrush which they use to write their stories. For instance, a fiction writer might not be able to think of what to write, or someone writing an essay might not be able to think of an apt way of phrasing a particular sentence. These are the most mild cases of writer's block as they are usually temporary. The worst form of writer's block is when you know what to write and how to phrase it, but you are filled with pain and grief each and every time you think about the topic at hand. That is what I have experienced. Whenever I take a step towards my unmerciful typewriter, I think about the tragic story of the Baudelaire orphans. I think about all that they have lived through and all that they have lost. It makes me feel so lost and alone. It shows me the truth about the world.
I made a promise to a dead friend that I would write about the misery and woe of the Baudelaires. However, you have made no such promise to read this terrible story. Unless of course, you have, in which case I am sorry to inform you of the trauma which you will soon experience. The thirteenth story of this series was titled 'The End', because I desperately wanted to forget about the Baudelaires' story forever and move on with my mournful life. However, I had no choice but to continue with my task. I then decided that 'The End' wasn't the end, so I wrote the fourteenth book, 'The Unpleasant Unknown'. Now, I am writing the first chapter of Book Fifteen and I will warn you one final time. Do not read one more word of this fan fiction. Swap it for a happier read like 'The Littlest Elf' and you will save yourself a lot of weeping.
The Baudelaire orphans stood on a hill in the countryside, not saying a word. The sun was setting and the view was beautiful. They watched the divine sight, aware that if they turned around they would be faced with a far less attractive view. Behind them lay the ruins of the Wecem sisters' cottage, which had been consumed by flames. Faith and Wonda Wecem had at one time been so cruel to the Baudelaires. They wore white powder over their faces and worked in the theatre troupe of a vile man named Count Olaf, who was later killed after breathing in the spores of the medusoid mycelium. However, they showed remorse and tried to make it up to the Baudelaires. They took care of them. The last the Baudelaires saw of the Wecems was when Faith ran back into the cottage to find Wonda. Now there was no sign of either of them. It was unlikely that either of them got out of that cottage alive.
The Baudelaires, however hard they tried, couldn't grieve for the loss of the Wecems. They were too busy grieving for the other life that was lost in the fire. Beatrice Snicket lied in Klaus Baudelaire's arms, absolutely still and absolutely silent. Klaus didn't want to admit the obvious truth. Beatrice was clearly dead. She was just another person who the Baudelaires lost. Just like the Wecems. Just like Kit Snicket and Dewey Denouement. Just like the Wecems. Just like the Quagmires, Fiona and the others who the Baudelaires abandoned in the Great Unknown as it sank. Just like Aunt Josephine and Uncle Monty. Just like their parents. As I write this, I wonder why everyone who gets close to those unfortunate orphans turns to dust. It seems it will always remain a mystery.
The Baudelaire fell asleep, huddled up together on the grass. When they woke up, they decided that it was time to accept the unfortunate truth. They prepared a funeral of sorts for Beatrice. Violet managed to make useful tools out of what was left of the cottage. Klaus used these tools, as well as Sunny's teeth, to build a little coffin. The three orphans shed tears as they dug into the ground, depressed by the thought of what they were digging this hole for. It is never an easy task to dig someone's grave. I once had to do such a task, but that's another story. The point is that the Baudelaires were depressed as they shovelled mound after mound of dirt until the only thing left to do was fill the grave. Klaus was sitting on the side of the hill, watching the sky when Violet approached him.
"Are you okay?" Violet asked with a concerned expression on her face. She already knew the answer to that question.
Klaus didn't even look at his sister when he replied, "What do you think?"
A long silence took place after this. The silence was eventually broken when Klaus spoke. His voice croaked as he let out the words which were haunting him so much.
"We promised Kit we would look after her," he said with a broken voice.
Violet placed a hand on her brother's shoulder as she said, "We tried our best."
Klaus turned his head and looked into his sister's eyes for the first time since Beatrice's tragic demise. He knew that Violet was trying to convince herself that they did everything they could as much as she was trying to convince Klaus.
"Kit wouldn't blame us for what happened to Beatrice," Violet said unconvincingly to her brother. "We did everything we could to protect her. You even ran into a burning bank to rescue her. You were willing to die for her and she would be thankful. If anyone is at fault, it's that man with the gas mask."
Klaus thought back to when they first men the gas-masked man at Mulctuary Money Management. Later, Violet caught him fleeing from the scene when the Wecems' cottage was burnt down. Violet managed to demask the arsonist. The only notable feature she noticed on his face was the fact that he had one eyebrow, just like other people who the Baudelaires have encountered such as Jacques Snicket and Count Olaf. Klaus found that he hated the gas-masked man more than he even hated Olaf.
It wasn't long before the youngest Baudelaire joined her siblings. She sat between Violet and Klaus, trying not to let her emotions grow two strong as she let out the words, "It's time".
The Baudelaires gently placed Beatrice's body in the coffin and individually spoke their goodbyes. Sunny was the first to approach the coffin.
"I'm sorry we couldn't take better care of you."
She mournfully walked away from the coffin as the eldest Baudelaire approached. Violet looked at Beatrice's corpse and felt sick as she took in the burns all over her face. It took great effort for her to speak. "I'm sorry, Kit."
When it was Klaus' turn to see the body, he said something that nobody would ever have expected Klaus Baudelaire to say. Even to this day, I cannot believe that Klaus, or any Baudelaire, could have said something like this. He would usually be the last person to say such a vile sentence. However, the pain of Beatrice's death took over and Klaus whispered the words softly, so that his sisters could not hear him. He thought of the gas-masked man as he uttered the three words.
"I'll kill him."